


Narrative Improbability

by CaraMia



Series: The Billion-Heirs' Club [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 22:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13534272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraMia/pseuds/CaraMia
Summary: Darcy and Jane have a discussion that mostly fails the Bechdel test.





	Narrative Improbability

**Author's Note:**

> Happens during Billionheirs Have Sleepovers Too. Yes, Darcy knows who everyone is and she told Jane (who dgaf and just wants to be allowed to science in peace).
> 
> In case you reached this point following the DC-verse characters and have no idea who these people are: Jane Foster is an astrophysicist who found Thor and hit him with a van. Other stuff also happened. Darcy Lewis is her intern and gopher.

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird, y’know, narratively?”

Jane said “hmph”. As Jane was currently in a self-imposed science timeout on the couch with a book covering her face, Darcy accepted this as an adequate response. 

“One bazillionaire is plenty. Two seems like cheating. Why don’t they just buy the whole world and then delegate ruling it to their incredibly competent underlings?” 

Jane said something that was muffled by the book over her face. 

“What?” 

Jane lifted the book slightly so Darcy could hear her, and repeated, “Three.” 

“Right! Two is weird but three feels like lazy writing! Like, ‘oh no how do I make this person able to buy all these cool gadgets? They have to be rich, there’s no other explanation. But, to make them ~relateable~ I’ll tragically kill their parents and/or loved ones.’ It’s so trope-y.” 

The book lifted again. “Please go tell this to the idiots upstairs and leave me alone in my misery.” 

“What - and validate their existence by acknowledging it? HA!” 

“Darcy, you’ve talked to Tony. I saw you drooling over Bruce Wayne when he got here. They’re not going to wink out of existence just because you refuse to go say hi right now.” 

“I draw the line at Oliver Queen, Jane. It’s too much. If I went up there I’d have to see them all try to out-playboy each other over me and frankly, I’d like to not be ruined for all other men any more than I already have been.” 

Jane waited. 

“I am specifically referring to that picture of Thor shirtless that he sent _me_ to show _you_ because you weren’t answering his texts!” 

“Darcy, you have that picture set as your phone’s lockscreen.” 

“I know! It’s awful!” 

“And now we have to change the count.” 

“You’re right, you’re right, of course, you’re right,” Darcy mumbled, pushing her office chair over to a whiteboard. On the whiteboard, written in shaky purple (done by Darcy as Jane tried to wrestle the marker away during one of their Margaritas and Science nights), were the words, _Conversations Failing the Bechdel-Wallace Test_ , with their names underneath and tally marks under those. Darcy had seventeen and Jane had fifteen. Jane had been losing a lot since Thor got back but the recent addition of _all_ the hot men had ruined Darcy’s winning streak. Darcy added another mark under her own name. 

“I guess that means it’s my turn to pick up lunch. Indian OK?” 

“Yes, but only if it’s from the --” 

“Place with the,” Darcy waved her hand. “I know, Jane. I know.” 

She scooped up her purse and phone and headed out the door. 

“I’m still mad about the lack of narrative complexity available in our lives and the lives of those we surround ourselves with!” 

“Extra rice and naan!” Jane yelled back as the door closed behind Darcy. She settled back on the couch with the book once again over her face. 


End file.
